Grief
by Lozzy98
Summary: Watson gets some devastating news and must deal with the grief that follows, but maybe with Holmes there to help him and an intriguing new case, he can make it through.
1. Inform

**Grief Chapter 1: Informed**

_"Educate and inform the whole mass of people...they are the only sure reliance for the preservation of our liberty"- Thomas __Jefferson_

**Hello, readers.**

**Originally, I wrote this story in English class when we had a free lesson and I thought I would share it with you.**

**A warning though, I don't usually write fics like this (ones that are set in the past) and this is a bit out of my comfort zone.**

**But I'm putting it up to see what kind of response I get from it.**

**I hope you enjoy.**

**This is set after A Game Of Shadows but Holmes is alive.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock Holmes.**

* * *

><p><strong>Watson<strong>

Slowly I closed the door behind me and set off down the street.

It was a bitterly cold winter day in London and, as always, the streets were jam-packed with people walking one way and just a couple of lonely people trying to make their way in the opposite direction, fighting against the others. I didn't think they would make it.

I joined the throng of people and started away from Baker Street and on my way back to the house I shared with my wife, Mary.

Even though I now live away from 221b Baker Street, I still think of it as home as my best friend, Sherlock Holmes still resides there. Also there was the lovely, if some times formidable, land-lady Mrs Hudson, who on every occasion that I came to visit, insisted that I need fattening up and cooked me a gorgeous meal that I could never finish.

As I ascended the steps to my front door, I took out my keys from my waistcoat pocket, entered them into the lock and let myself in.

Unsurprisingly, my wife was nowhere to be seen. She was visiting her mother, who had recently come down with a terrible illness and my, lovely, caring wife had left for a few days to tend to her while she recovered.

As my wife was away, I was left to fend for myself as we had no house-keeper, because my Mary wanted the full experience of wedded life or something like that. I shall never understand women.

I am entirely ashamed to admit that I am a terrible, terrible cook and could burn water, so I was very glad when I managed to find some cheese and some fresh bread so I could make a sandwich, that much I could handle.

I had settled down with my sandwich a warm cup of tea and a newspaper, reading a admittedly boring article on the economy, when I heard the door knocker.

My first thought was to ignore it and get back to my paper, but you never know who could be knocking, it could be something important, so I went and opened the door.

And was surprised, but pleasantly so, when I recognised Inspector Lestrade standing on my door-step.

"Good afternoon, Doctor" He said pleasantly, but he looked a little sombre. he was dressed in his usual attire, a dark three piece suit and a bowler hat, which he tipped with his greeting.

"Good afternoon, Lestrade" I returned his greeting hesitantly, wondering what would get him to look so worried.

"Would you like to come in?" I asked politely, since he looked like he wanted to talk in a little more privacy than in the middle of the street. He nodded and I waved him in, and then closed the door behind him

He settled himself in an armchair next to the fire and waited until I had sat down before he started saying what he needed to say.

"I am afraid I have some bad news. Very bad news in fact" He said after a few moments of silence.

"Well, what is it?" I asked, wanting to know because he just looked so damn sad.

"It's…" He faltered slightly here, but then his voice got steady once again, "It's about your wife".

My heart sank a little with those words, but I needed him to continue so I urged him on with "What about her?" proud of myself when my voice didn't falter.

It must have been big news; otherwise they would have sent one of the younger constables instead of the Inspector.

"Uh.." He cleared this throat "There has been an incident" he finally murmured, so quietly that I could barely hear him.

"What kind of incident?" I demanded sharply, now worried beyond belief.

"An incident involving a hansom cab and…your wife" he eventually said.

My heart just about stopped, and all the little hope I had that Mary would still be coming back home, back to me, had vanished and I drew in a shaky breath.

"Is she..?" I couldn't bring myself to say that awful word, but Lestrade knew what I meant and he nodded solemnly.

I closed my eyes and leaned forward in my chair and put my head in my hands, breathing deeply, trying to keep tears from falling. I would wait until I was alone for that, but know I had company and I did not want to put any more strain on Lestrade as he looked run ragged, so I pulled myself together and looked back at him.

"The driver was drunk, I'm afraid, Doctor" He said, then a spark of anger entered his eyes and he said "He will get what is coming to him, Doctor, yes he will."

"I know, thank you, Lestrade" I muttered and he stood up to leave, giving me a friendly squeeze on the shoulder as he walked past, but when he reached the door he hesitated and turned back round to face me.

"I will check on you in the morning and Mr. Holmes has already been informed on your… unfortunate circumstances and I am sure he is waiting for you at Baker Street" and with that he left, leaving me and my own to wallow in my grief and finally let them tears flow.

* * *

><p><strong>Thank you for reading.<strong>

**This is meant to be a one-shot but if anyone wants me to make a story out of it I will happily oblige.**

_**Lozzy98**_


	2. Thoughts

**Grief Chapter 2: Thoughts**

"_The more man meditates upon good thoughts, the better will be his world and the world at large" -Confucius_

**So, I decided that I would carry on with this story as some people did like it.**

**I have to say that this story probably won't be slash, as I don't really feel comfortable writing slash ( I admit I do enjoy reading it) I just think that it is not within my writing capabilities. **

**This story will most definitely be a Bromance, no doubt about it. I just love that Holmes and Watson are so close.**

**I have never written something like this before so be nice to me please, as I'm not sure how it will go.**

* * *

><p><strong>Holmes<strong>

I sighed as I sat back in my armchair and lit my pipe. Lestrade had been by on his way to Watson's home and informed me of the dreadful news. I, myself, had never really been a great fan of Mary, but I knew how much she meant to Watson and my heart ached for him. His wife meant the world to him, she really did, and I knew that he was the same to her as she was to him.

I sighed again, taking in a puff of smoke and blowing it out quickly. My smoking was already starting to pollute the sitting room and no doubt that Mrs Hudson would have something to say about it later, she always did, but for the moment I had more important things on my mind.

I wondered if Watson would come here after he heard the news. Or would he just wallow in his sadness, alone in that now empty house of his. I hoped he would not for I hope I could be a source of comfort to him, as he had been for me many a time.

I closed my eyes and just sat in silence for a while. Lestrade has probably been and gone from Watson's by now, I just hope that Watson knows that I am here for him. I know I am normally cold, abrupt and sometimes even rude, but that is the front I put on for the world, except Watson as I occasionally let my mask slip a little and he is able to see the real me. I do act the way I do for a reason, it is because I do not wish for any of my enemies (as I have rather a lot, an occupational hazard, one might say) to know any of my weaknesses.

I do have few weaknesses, not many, but if any of the London criminals that I had put behind bars found out any of them, I had no doubt that they would use it against me.

One of my weaknesses is Mrs Hudson. I know, I know, I do tend to snap at the lady and generally just be rude to her, but, I have to admit, without her excellent house-keeping skills and endless patience, I would have been without lodgings within my first week of moving in.

My other weakness, as I am sure you have guessed, is Watson. Without Watson I can honestly say that I would have no clue what do to, he is the thing that holds me together, I am well aware that what I have just though sounds like it should be included in one of Watson's overly romanticised stories, but its all true. He is as great a companion as any man could ask for, brave, strong, humorous, a doctor (I can't tell you how many times that has saved me and many other people) and also a crack-shot (which has proved to be very, very valuable in some of my more extreme cases).

I refilled my pipe as it ran out and lit it again. Mrs Hudson would complain, but for now I just wanted to think and smoke in peace.

I stood up, made my way towards the fire that was slowly dwindling and realising that it was suddenly chilly, picked up the poker and started coaxing the flames to rise upwards again, then went back to smoking in my armchair, basking in the warmth that the fire was now giving off.

For a while I sat there and watched the flames, crackling merrily, as though nothing was wrong in the world, then, not for the first time, I wondered what it would be like if I had not chosen to become a consulting detective. The first thought that came to mind would be; _boring! _There was no doubt in my mind that having an average pedestrian job would bore me senseless. Also, without me out there doing what I do best, some, no most, of the most notorious criminals in London would still be on the loose, and doing what they do best.

Contrary to that, I also thought of why it could be a good thing for me to give up my job in catching criminals. The biggest thing that jumps to my attention though, is that if I did indeed give up on this dangerous lifestyle, Watson would never be in harms way because of me again, and that was a very tempting thought.

Then, almost as soon as that thought came into my head I banished it. I knew that Watson liked doing what we did, I have seen him elbow deep in a fight with just a little bit of a gleam in his eyes. Yes, Watson likes the danger of cases as much as I do, maybe even more in fact, and he is spurred on by the knowledge that he is doing it for the benefit of others.

I was brought out of my musings by the doorbell ringing. I heard Mrs Hudson rushing to answer it and I stood and made my way towards the door, but not fast enough as the door swung open before I could get there and behind it stood Watson, looking as bad as I have ever seen him…

* * *

><p><strong>Ooohhh, a cliff-hanger.<strong>

**Thanks for reading, please leave a review and tell me what you think.**

_**Lozzy98**_


End file.
